


A Simpler Approach

by Emery



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Commissioned Work, Emotional, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homura has tried again and again only to fail, but this time she takes an entirely different approach to rescuing Madoka from her fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simpler Approach

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written as a commissioned oneshot, and the commissioner requested that Homura unsuccessfully attempt to make Madoka pudding.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and feel free to leave any comments below!

How many times had it been now? How many times had she travelled backwards two steps only to gain one step forward and then be rewarded with nothing but a useless outcome or an imminent blundering death? Homura had tried every strategy any man—or rather, any magical girl—could think of, and not a single time had she succeeded. She pondered her failures until she had determined her uselessness with certainty. Anyone else could have rescued Madoka from her fate by now, couldn’t they?

Or perhaps Madoka’s fate wasn’t destined to be changed.

The thought hurt, like a clawed hand had grabbed Homura’s heart and was squeezing against the struggling muscle, but pain wasn’t exactly something that fazed her anymore. If she could have won this war against evil with a resistance to pain alone, she should have won a long time ago, which made her wonder if she was taking the right approach at all. Perhaps with a different way of thinking, things would be better able to progress the way Homura needed them to.

She had explored every aspect of anger, hatred, rage, desperation—most things within the negative spectrum of emotion, which brought to question how the embrace of a more wholesome feeling might affect her game plan for her upcoming attempt.

 _Love_. 

Homura was young, but the idea was by no means foreign to her. And, when she faced the question realistically, wasn’t it true that she already had some amount of love in Madoka in her heart? The answer stared her blatantly in the face despite her reluctance to accept it, but there was no other reason why she would be fighting so hard for a classmate other than having more potent feelings than usual for the sweet, pink-haired girl.

Maybe, just maybe, if Homura could make Madoka fall in love with her, if she could kindle some semblance of a relationship into existence, Madoka would choose her over that thrice-cursed Kyubey. Homura would have to work quickly though, something which was both to her advantage and disadvantage. She would most certainly have the element of surprise on her side, at any rate.

Homura’s primary difficulty was finding the right balance of flirtation, kindness, charm, and assertiveness. Everyone fell in love differently, but after dealing with Madoka so many times, Homura felt certain that she knew the young girl inside and out. Homura knew the little things Madoka liked, what Madoka appreciated in a person and what she hated. And, as reluctant as Homura was to pursue this plan, she had nothing left to lose. Her first idea was simple, almost too much so, but it was no doubt a truth that Madoka liked sweets.

Pudding, especially vanilla, was her favorite.

Homura had never made pudding before, but she supposed it was about time to try. It had to be easier than making ammunition and bombs from scratch, and it had to be easier than fighting witches and keeping Kyubey at bay. The instructions on the box were simple, but that didn’t make Homura any better at cooking. It had never been her specialty, and up until now it hadn’t mattered.

Ingredients were inexpensive and not much time was required. Perfect. A bowl, a spoon, a box of powder and some milk, stir until thick, and refrigerate for best results. So easy anyone could do it, and really, Homura _had_ done it, except for her mistake of putting the bowl of sweet pudding in the freezer instead of the refrigerator as the recipe had called for. To her dismay, the overly cold temperature had formed ice crystals on the edges of the pudding and thickened it until it held the consistency of something like rock-hard ice cream.

Homura’s eyes widened behind her glasses as she delicately pulled the bowl from the refrigerator and held it before her, completely dejected. It was only half an hour until she would see Madoka that morning at school—nowhere near enough time for the pudding to thaw. Even if there  _was_ time, she doubted that it would hold the same flavor and smooth consistency after having been entirely frozen for a night, and she wanted so badly to please Madoka, to give her something that she would appreciate and enjoy instead of a frozen vanilla mess.

Regardless, she held the pudding in her hands with the utmost care all the way to school, her braids bouncing against her back as she jogged, until she ran into Madoka during homeroom meeting. All at once Homura’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest and her cheeks ignited with the brightest crimson blush.

“M-madoka?”

With fear twisting her stomach, she let her eyes waver downwards to the pudding and, sure enough, it was barely thawed enough to be edible. This was idiotic—she would just have to do it over again, suffer again, fail again—

“Ah, did you make that pudding yourself, Homura?”

Homura looked up to meet Madoka’s sweet, innocent, adoring eyes, and all at once she felt both comforted and assured. Madoka was too kind a person be unappreciative of a gift, even if the gift was a horrid failure, and to someone so pure and selfless it was the thought that counted instead of the quality of the gift. The way Madoka’s eyes lit up with pleasant surprise when Homura meekly mentioned that the pudding was a gift for her was enough to make up for all the anxiety that had been so mercilessly tearing her insides in two.

Perhaps this plan alternative to violence wouldn’t be so bad, after all. It was a relief to be able to remove the mask that made her so emotionless and to show her true nature once again. It was nice to be able to wear the glasses she loved so much instead of the contacts that had made her eyes itch and water and wear her hair in the braided style that had once been her favorite. The power of love was great, or so it had always been said, and there was no reason for Homura’s case to be any different. Kyubey certainly was incapable of such feelings, so in a way, hadn’t Homura already won?

Besides, seeing Madoka so happy over something like frozen, inedible pudding made Homura admit to herself that Madoka did indeed hold a very special place in her heart, one that no one else could ever occupy.


End file.
